Smokies to Roan Mountain 2007

date Shelters/campsites mileage feet climbed

Sun 6/10 Fontana à Russell Field 13.1 4190

Mon 6/11 Russell Field à Double Spring Gap 16.4 3787

Tues 6/12 Double Spring à Pecks Corner 21.2 2900

Wed 6/13 Pecks Corner à Davenport Gap 20.0 2875

Thur 6/14 Davenport Gap à Roaring Fork 17.9 5034

Fri 6/15 Roaring Fork à Hot Springs 18.8 2906

Sat 6/16 Hot Springs à Little Laurel 19.6 3315

Sun 6/17 Little Laurel à Hogback Ridge 21.5 3790

Mon 6/18 Hogback Ridge à No Business Knob 20.6 3316

Tues 6/19 No Business Knob à Cherry Gap 22.7 4558

Wed 6/20 Cherry Gap à Roan High Knob 14.5 4025

In June of 2007 I hiked my final section of the trail, from Fontana Dam at the southeastern end of the Smoky Mountains to Roan Mountain. After Tatiana and I hiked Roan Mountain two years earlier, we decided it would be a fitting spot for finishing the trail. We managed to hike all of the missing miles in central Virginia earlier in 2007, which set me up to hike this final section in the summer. We drove down on Saturday the 9^th, and stayed at a hiker-oriented hotel called The Hike Inn – located just a few miles from Fontana. We had dinner at a local restaurant in Bryson City, a gateway town for the Smokies located west of Cherokee. The next morning we followed the recommendation of our host at the inn and had breakfast in Robbinsville. While at the inn we made the acquaintance of an overly friendly cat named “Catzilla”. This cat reminded us of our cat Keesha – just larger and masculine. He came right into our room and jumped up onto the bed in the morning.

Check out a map of the elevation profile through the Smokies and terrain maps of the entire route | detail of Smokies to Hot Springs and Hot Springs to Roan Mountain. | Interactive Great Smokies map | Overall elevation profile of the trip

Sun 6/10 Fontana à Russell Field 13.1 Elevation Profile

After breakfast on Sunday, we drove to Fontana Dam. I had earlier obtained reservations for the four shelters I indeed to stay in while covering the 71 miles through the National Park, and before starting off I filled out a permit and left a copy at the drop box near the dam. We walked across the dam together before saying our goodbyes. The trail was easy at first, following an old paved road to a small parking area. Then in led into the woods and climbed steadily for several miles. Once reaching the main mountain chain in the park, the trail does not drop much below 4500 feet – in fact it stays above 5000 for more than 30 miles – so the initial climb was significant. After gaining 2300’ I paused to climb the Shuckstack fire tower, which provides an excellent view of the southeastern Smokies, Fontana Dam, and the Nantahala mountains to the south. Several other hikers were checking out the view when I stopped there, and I stayed at the same shelter with three of them on my second night. A few miles further on, I took a break at the Mollies Ridge Shelter. The three thru-hikers I had met at the tower were also there, and we were gazing across the open grassy field in front of the shelter when an unusual-looking hiker entered the clearing. His pack was made of Tyvek and duct tape, and he was not wearing any shoes. He explained to us that he had hiked the northern half of the trail last year, stopping near Crabtree Falls, VA because of an injury. He was completing his hike this year. The reason for his choice of pack and footwear was partly derived from the cause for which he was hiking – to raise awareness for veterans’ issues. In particular, he wanted to convince the government to provide more extensive counseling and psychological care for returning solders than they are currently offering. He was an interesting guy to talk to. I hiked several more miles before staying the night at Russell Field Shelter. Although many of the shelters along the trail in the Smokies have been remodeled in recent years, this one still bore the cramped quarters and chain link fence typical of the older shelters. There was a small grassy clearing in front of the shelter – a nice place to read in the sun – but not what I would call a field. Probably there had been a larger cleared area in the past – in the 1800s many settlers grazed cattle and other livestock in cleared areas on the mountaintops during the summer. One large group of hikers showed up later. They told me they had arrived at their previous shelter near midnight the previous night, to the great consternation of the other campers there. I was glad they were more punctual today.

Mon 6/11 Russell Field à Double Spring Gap 16.4 Elevation profile

The weather yesterday had been warm and sunny, but it cooled down nicely over night at 4360’ above sea level. I awoke to moderately cloudy skies and cool temperatures. On the map it looked like the day would provide a moderately challenging hike, but less strenuous than the big climb the previous day. Maps can be deceiving. As it turned out, the route involved many small ups and downs, as well as some relatively rugged sections. It took only a few easy miles to reach the next shelter, at Spence Field. The thru-hikers I had met the previous day had gone on to this shelter, and I could see it would have been an appealing place to stay. The large grassy field surrounding the shelter is beginning to shrink as trees advance across it, but there is still a large open space. The shelter has also been remodeled, with a higher roof and a covered porch area. The rugged section followed Spence Field, starting by ascending to Rocky Top. The route lost fairly significant elevation before cresting again at Thunderhead Mountain, the highest point in the western end of the park. The views were quite good, but it was difficult to make out distant landmarks with any clarity because of the partial cloud cover. Cades Cove was visible in the distance, and I imagined the hundreds of cars and tourists slowly making their way along the scenic drive past the restored settlers cabins and barns. Towards mid-afternoon I came upon a trail crew who were doing basic trail maintenance. I had seen evidence of clearing and water bar work for the past several miles. The leader noted the rude hikers who had come into camp after midnight a few days earlier – that would be the guys I had met last night. I soon came upon Silers Bald Shelter, where they were camped. A half dozen tents were set up in the grassy clearing near the shelter, and a large female turkey was boldly foraging in the grass. She came quite close to me – probably hoping for a handout. Silers Bald itself was a short distance up the trail; this bald is also closing in with tree growth. Two miles further I came to Double Spring Gap Shelter. This shelter, also with a chain link fence across the front and no remodeling, was appropriately named – two springs were within yards of the clearing. Both were, however, dismally low. There was just enough water flowing to pump for use with dinner. Water had been somewhat scarce along this section of trail: the spring at Mollies Ridge was dry, and the one at Russell Field was slow. I looked at the park website when writing this text, approximately a month after my hike, and discovered the situation had gotten worse. Park officials were cautioning against backpacking the western end of the park along the AT – the stretch I had done in these past two days – because of a lack of water. I am glad I hiked when I did. The three thru-hikers I met earlier stayed at the shelter. I did not get many details from them regarding why they were still this far south – the tail end of the thru-hiker crowd was probably at least a week ahead. This group would probably need to flip-flop – going to Maine after hiking through Virginia – if they hoped to complete the trail this year. Around dusk, we had a surprising sight: into the clearing strode a young guy with a National Park Service hat, backpack, black t-shirt and camouflage pants, holding a large black rifle with a scope on it. I eventually realized he was one of the sharpshooters hired by the park to hunt non-native pigs, which are causing all sorts of problems in the park. I had seen quite a bit of evidence of their rooting that day.

Tues 6/12 Double Spring à Pecks Corner 21.2 Elevation profile

I got a reasonably early start on Tuesday, and started the steady climb towards Clingman’s Dome – at 6643’ the highest point in the Smokies, in the state of Tennessee, and along the entire Appalachian Trail. The trail gradually rose toward several intermediate peaks, dropping in elevation a little between each before rising again. As I started off, I was already surrounded by a dramatic change in forest cover: the higher elevations in the Smokies are dominated by spruce and fir trees, a forest type more typical of New England. When I arrived at Clingman’s Dome, I was the only person there. This was quite a treat, given that the paved road that ends at a parking lot ½ mile from the observation tower provides easy access to tourists, many of whom arrive by bus. In fact, when Tatiana and I had stopped here a few years ago, the place was overrun with kids on a spring break trip. I enjoyed the view from the tower, which was outstanding. The next 8 miles of trail followed a fairly level ridge, always moving gradually down, and paralleling the road to the peak. Along the way I crossed a fence that was erected to keep the pigs away from a rare stand of beech trees. Eventually I reached Newfound Gap, where the trail crosses the main highway that ferries tourists between Gatlinburg and Cherokee. The parking lot at the gap provides and excellent view, and the place was crowded with families and retirees. I stopped to wash out my cooking pot and refill water bottles, but moved on as quickly as I could to get away from the crowds. The next 4 miles of trail were relatively easy and well-worn, since many people day-hike starting at Newfound Gap. After three miles I passed the Boulevard Trail, which leads to Mt. LeConte. I had used that trail when hiking with my brother Mike several years ago, as we looped from Mt. LeConte onto the AT. Shortly afterward I came to Icewater Spring Shetler, where I took a longer break. A few hikers were already settling down for the night, and I sensed the evening would be a crowded one there. I continued hiking through the fragrant forest, soon reaching Charlie’s Bunion. This location, honoring one of the early explorers of these mountains, provides an outstanding view, which was made possible by a landslide; heavy rains triggered the landslide, but the ground had been made unstable by logging operations. I hiked another 7 miles through the spruce trees, leaving behind the more crowded section of trail, to arrive at Pecks Corner Shelter. Mike and I had stayed here in 2001, and it was very busy then, as the spring break crowds combined with the thru-hikers. This time the shelter was only half full, the other hikers being a father-son team who were hiking the AT through the park in a southbound direction, and a couple who were on a loop hike. That evening we saw two or three bears in the area near the shelter. It was quite cold at night also – which perhaps should not be surprising since the elevation was 5280’.

Wed 6/13 Pecks Corner à Davenport Gap 20.0 Elevation profile

I warmed up quickly in the morning, climbing along the side trail back to the AT. The trail was empty in the morning, and I saw only one small group and a solo hiker until mid-afternoon. It was a very pleasant walk, continuing along the spruce-fir ridge with occasional views of the surrounding mountain ridges. Occasional blooming rhododendron framed the view next to large trees along the trail. The CCC build this section of trail in the 1930s, and they leveled out some of the sharp elevation changes and added retaining walls (another pic) – in a fashion similar to the way roads are often constructed. At one point I passed the wreckage of a plane that crashed into the mountains back in the 70s. I took a break in the afternoon at Cosby Knob Shelter, anther spot where Mike and I stayed in 2001. That year we woke to several inches of snow on the ground – something that was unthinkable now. The shelter had been remodeled since then, and looked quite nice. A few miles further I arrived at a side trail to the Mt. Cammerer lookout, which I took the time to explore. The lookout is a wooded structure built to watch for fires (it’s technically not a tower since it sits right on the ground rather than on tall iron or wooden legs – its position on the edge of a cliff provides and excellent viewpoint). There were several day hikers at the lookout, and they must have hiked quite a distance to get there. The view was spectacular, taking in much of the eastern end of the park, the impressive elevation drop to the Pigeon River and gorge where I-40 travels, and the high mountains beyond. After returning to the trail I continued the descent to Davenport Gap Shelter – at 2600’ more than 3700 feet lower than the highest point I had crossed that morning. The shelter was unoccupied, and remained so throughout the night. It was in a glade of huge maple and basswood trees – probably an area that had never been logged. It rained a little that night, but nothing significant.

Thur 6/14 Davenport Gap à Roaring Fork 17.9 Elevation profile

It was a short hike to the park border at Davenport Gap in the morning, along a scenic stretch of trail that passed through deep woods filled with giant trees. Another mile past the border brought me to a crossing of I-40 and a bridge over the Pigeon River. I was soon climbing again, having crossed one of the lowest points on my intended route. I made a stop at Standing Bear Farm, a hostel located a short distance from the trail. The rustic spot, located on a gravel road that felt like the middle of nowhere (or at least the middle of the woods) provided a bunkhouse, supplies, laundry, and computer and phone access. I did a quick check of my email before heading back out onto the trail. The next high point was at Snowbird Mountain, which had a wide, flat, grassy summit. The area was cleared partly to provide access to an aviation control building operated by the FAA, which was surrounded by fencing and dire warnings against trespassing. The peak afforded an excellent view of the surrounding green-cloaked mountains, and dark clouds foretold the possibility of a thunderstorm. After a few more miles in the woods the trail again rose above the trees, this time to climb the grass-covered peak known as Max Patch. Although this peak provided an even better 360 degree view than Snowbird, I was not able to enjoy it because thunder was ominously threatening overhead, rain was lightly falling, and I was at least a half mile from the nearest shelter in the forest. I had considered camping on top of the peak, but sticking around for the coming storm did not seem wise. Instead I continued on to the next shelter, passing through an impressive tunnel of rhododendrons along the way. The trail crossed the first major stream, other than the Pigeon River, since starting the hike, and I was able to easily fill up for the evening. I stayed at Roaring Fork Shelter, a standard wooden structure near the trail. The shelter was relatively crowded: a thru-hiker who had been delayed by injury was hiking with his mother and dog; and two guys were just out for a couple of days. There was also a small group of teenage boys from an area camp. In the evening the rain settled in with a heavier rhythm, and I was glad for the shelter of the small wooded structure where I slept.

Fri 6/15 Roaring Fork à Hot Springs 18.8 Elevation profile

I rose early on Friday, knowing that I needed to hike to the town of Hot Springs before the post office closed at 4:00. Thankfully the route was relatively easy, and I made good time cruising through the moist woods. The rain had stopped, but the air was warm and humid. Before long I was taking a lunch break at Deer Park Mountain Shelter, only about three miles from town. I cruised into Hot Springs around 1:30, and soon found myself at Elmer’s Sunnybank Inn. Elmer’s is a hiker-oriented hostel/B&B, housed in an old Victorian structure that has served as a boarding house for decades. The establishment attempts to reconnect people with the natural world and get them away from technology, and bans cell phones and computers. Since I was there after the thru-hiker rush, many of the guests were not hikers, but had been drawn to the Inn by their interest in the vegetarian meals served there. There was one fascinating hiker who I discovered had visited Washington DC several years ago and managed to camp (illegally) in the National Arboretum as well as along the Paint Branch Trail in College Park. The town of Hot Springs was a nice place to spend the afternoon, and I picked up my box of food, wandered around the town and along the French Broad River, and enjoyed a buffalo burger for dinner at a local pub. Hot Springs has embraced it’s status as a “trail town”, and the official AT blazes are prominently engraved in the sidewalk through the middle of town.

Sat 6/16 Hot Springs à Little Laurel 19.6 Elevation profile

In the morning I had breakfast at Elmer’s before heading back onto the trail. I was not really craving vegetarian fare, but thought I should try one of the meals at the Inn, which seem to get rave reviews. The meal centered around waffles and granola, with fresh fruit preserves and other plant products on the side. It was actually quite good, and the conversation with other guests was interesting. It was mid-morning by the time I hit the trail, and I hurried off because I had many miles to cover. The trail ran along the river, which is popular for rafting trips, for a ways before climbing steeply past a viewpoint called Lover’s Leap (how many of these are there??) back into the mountains. Near the top of the first climb I took a side trail to the Rich Mountain Fire Tower. The old wooden tower provided a good vantage point for taking in the surrounding mountains, but clouds and haze mostly obscured the view. Other than the tower, the route for today was not particularly distinctive, with no high peaks, views, or scenic streamside walks to attract day-hikers, so in spite of the fact that it was a weekend I did not see many other people. I crossed two major 2-lane paved roads, one of which was bridged by a pedestrian overpass. Neither road was carrying much traffic when I passed over them though. I was enjoying a solitary hike through deep forest, later in the afternoon, when I suddenly crested a hill and came upon a clearing that seemed to have been taken over by a large group. Tents were set up in every available space, the picnic table was crowded with people, and the shelter appeared full. It turned out nearly the entire group, more than 20 of them, were from a church in Indianapolis and were traveling together. They made room for me in the shelter, and I wandered down to wait in a rather long line to get water. It was very strange to be dealing with such crowds in the backcountry, especially on a day when I had not seen many hikers. I woke up in the middle of the night, and when I stepped out of the shelter I noticed some movement above me in the trees. It took me a moment to realize that several flying squirrels were flitting around, trying to get at the large food bag that members of the group had hung from one of the trees. I had never seen flying squirrels in the wild, although I know they are quite common, so I watched them for a few minutes before returning to my sleeping bag.

Sun 6/17 Little Laurel à Hogback Ridge 21.5 Elevation profile

In the morning I left before the big group had much momentum. I knew I would not see them again, since they were planning on taking 3-4 days to hike the distance I planned to cover by tomorrow morning. The shelter had been at a relatively high elevation, and within 1.5 miles I found another side trail to an observation tower. This time the peak, called Camp Creek Bald, was marred by industrial infrastructure of some sort, which was a noisy visual intrusion. The view was better than yesterday, however, as the weather was clearer. The next 5-6 miles were rather rugged, and progress was slowed on the rocky trail. Occasional views gave me a good overall sense of the local topography. One of the rocky peaks along the ridge was called Big Butt. I was hoping to see an official sign declaring the name of that location, but unfortunately there was none. Eventually the trail dropped down to cross two roads in a farmed valley, then crossed several streams before climbing again toward another ridge. The trail was now circling the valley where I-26 runs from Erwin, TN – where I would be in two days – to Ashville NC. I soon came upon a clearing where there was a view of the ridge opposite the highway. I could pick out the high point on the next ridge, known as Big Bald – it was, as the name suggests, clear of trees. After a few more miles I reached the Hogback Ridge Shelter, which was situated along a pleasantly wooded ridge. Two section hikers were already in residence. Brewmaster, a retired chemistry professor from Pennsylvania, had some fascinating stories. True to his trail name, he was an expert on beer and had actually taught a course in the subject of making beer.

Mon 6/18 Hogback Ridge à No Business Knob 20.6 Elevation profile

The following day dawned clear and bright. I had been looking forward to the next section of hiking, knowing that it passed over Big Bald. Since I missed out on the opportunity to enjoy the view from Max Patch, I viewed this as the replacement mountain. After a few miles of easy hiking I emerged at the top of the mountain pass (a low spot known as Sams Gap, from the perspective of the trail) where I-26 crossed the mountains. I crossed under the highway and quickly climbed back into the woods. The next 6 miles leading to Big Bald were an interesting mix of deep woods and grassy meadows. One stretch of meadow reminded me very strongly of the old fields near my parents house where my brother Mike and I used to explore when we were kids. I had to remind myself that I was actually above 4000’ elevation instead of the perhaps 800’ in Grant Michigan. I passed a group of retiree day hikers who had left a car at a gravel road a few miles after the highway, and met a family group of backpackers who had likely stayed at the shelter the other side of Big Bald. Soon I reached the top. The grassy slopes approaching the peak were covered in yellow-flowered plants waving gently in the breeze. The view on top took in some developed area to the south – a ski resort occupies that side of the mountain – but mostly looked out on green, forested mountains. I was fairly certain I could pick out Roan Mountain, where I expected to end my hike in a few days. After descended from the peak, the trail followed a grassy ridge for a ways and then entered an ancient forest in a sag between Big and Little Balds. The forest had the feel of Franconia Ridge in the White Mountains, and was marked by medium-size spruce trees and mossy fallen logs, some of which sported a brilliant orange fungus. I took a brief break at the shelter, which was nested in this intriguing forest – it would have been a fun place to spend the night. Soon I crossed over the wooded summit of Little Bald and then gradually descended the ridge to cross Spivey Gap. The remaining 5 miles of hiking, leading up to No Business Knob Shelter, was very interesting. The trail followed the contours of the mountain as it skirted the outside edge, rather than climbing over top. The route passed through heavy rhododendron thickets, crossing several streams, as it wound in and out along the edge of the mountain. The register at No Business Knob Shelter contained several recent accounts of bear sightings, so I was careful to select a good food-hanging tree that evening. After making dinner, my post-meal musing was disturbed by a tremendous crashing sound coming from the woods behind the shelter. I did some exploring and soon discovered that a large maple tree had fallen down. There was only the slightest hint of a breeze, so it was hard to say what had triggered the fall. I could see that one side of the tree’s base had begun to rot, which probably weakened it enough to make it fall. The maple had taken out several smaller trees as it fell. I was glad I did not have a tent set up beneath it.

Tues 6/19 No Business Knob à Cherry Gap 22.7 Elevation profile

For this penultimate day of hiking I had planned my longest hike of the trip. I got an early start, and was soon striding down a dry, pine-covered ridge with occasional views to the Nolichucky River valley, toward which I was descending. I heard a train whistle in the distance, and watched as an engine pulling dozens – probably hundreds – of cars full of coal snaked along the edge of the river. On reaching the river I took a break at Uncle Johnny’s Hostel, which sits right next to the trail. The hostel had several small bunkhouses, an outfitter shop for re-supply, and provided free loaner bikes for trips to the town of Erwin, which lay three miles away along the river. It would have been a nice place to stay – and in fact, a hiker I met later that day told me he had been there for a week! The guy’s trail name was “Lazy Bones”, and it seemed a fitting name given what he had told me. The trail crossed the wide Nolichucky, another popular rafting river, on a road bridge, and then followed the river for a mile or so, passing another hostel/campground before ascending into the woods. After a long climb I reached “Beauty Spot”, an open grassy clearing with views of the surrounding mountains. I could hear and see a storm brewing, but the rain was not imminent and I took advantage of the opportunity to rest and enjoy the view. The trail re-entered the woods for perhaps a mile, and then crossed another grassing opening. By this time the thunder had grown very close, and rain was beginning to fall as I hurried across the open ground to find shelter in the trees. I put the rain cover on my pack and continued to hike – I usually don’t bother with a rain jacket while hiking, except in colder weather – and soon began climbing Unaka Mountain. The heavens opened up, and heavy rain began to fall – I was soon soaking wet. I passed several other hikers on the way up, and by the time I reached the top the rain had stopped. The 5180’ peak was covered with spruce trees, and it felt like I had been transported north to Maine. At the bottom of the descent I reached Cherry Gap, where a shelter awaited. I had time to get into dry clothes and get water for the evening before the rain started again – it would continue for much of the night.

Wed 6/20 Cherry Gap à Roan High Knob 14.5 Elevation Profile

I awoke today with excitement, knowing that I was about to reach my goal. I set off through wet woods that were slowly drying out in the sun. I had been carrying a tiny I-pod shuffle with me, but had not used it yet. I decided to listen to a lecture series that was hosted by Church of the Servant earlier that year. A philosophy professor and a biology professor were addressing arguments raised by Richard Dawkins in a recent book that attacks religious belief. It was very interesting. I also listed to music for a while, but when I began the ascent of Roan Mountain I shut off the music, wanting to fully enjoy the natural sounds around me as I hiked. The climb was long and relatively steep, although not rocky. From the low spot at Hughes Gap, the trail ascended 2245’ in about three miles. As I neared the top, the fragrant smell of fir trees wafted through the air, and signs of the northern forest soon again surrounded me. The final ½ mile of trail passes over a few rocky stretches – just to add some extra challenge, it seemed – but I soon found myself standing at a trail sign where I had ended a section hike two years earlier. I had completed the entire trail! It was a great feeling to be finished, but I had plans for the rest of the afternoon so I did not dwell on it much. Tatiana had originally planned to pick me up today, but she had to remain in Greenbelt to attend a meeting where the Architectural Review Committee would examine plans for our addition. So I decided to stay in the shelter at Roan Mountain that night, and she would arrive by noon the next day. After getting water at the nearby parking lot, I hiked the ½ mile to the Roan High Knob Shelter, which is the highest such structure on the entire trail at 6285’. The shelter is an enclosed 4-sided historic building that originally served as a fire warden’s cabin. Fragrant fir and spruce, as well as a few blooming Catwaba rhododendrons surrounded it. Having plenty of time left in the day, I stashed most of my things at the shelter and continued north on the trail, through a section that had been one of my favorites when we hiked it in 2005. The trail descends through spruce-fir forest to Carver’s Gap, then climbs along a grassy, open ridge top for several miles. I spotted some rare Gray’s Lily’s in bloom, and enjoyed superior vistas along the entire route. I hiked 4 miles to grassy ridge, a short distance off the AT, which is considered the highest natural 360-degree view near the trail. The word “natural” eliminates both Mount Washington (covered with numerous buildings) and Clingman’s Dome (which has the observation tower and otherwise would not offer a view at all, because of the trees). I could pick out many high peaks in the distance, including Grandfather Mountain. There were also flame azaleas in bloom.

The next morning I packed up my stuff and returned to the parking area, then hiked through the developed trail system exploring the Catawba rhododendron gardens. The gardens are a popular attraction, particularly at this time of year, which is the peak time for blooming. I also followed a trail out to Roan High Bluff, which offered an excellent view from the precipitous west face of the mountain.